


Homecoming

by nanazlovese



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Bromance, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Gen, Memory Loss, No Sex, Stealing donuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanazlovese/pseuds/nanazlovese
Summary: So I started writing this after CA:TWS, and it was supposed to fit in before CA:CW came out. And then life got in the way and I had to do this annoying thing called University and once I got that done I came back to it and now it's FINALLY finished. So in case anyone's still interested, here's a much-too-long-for-its-own-good and overly angsty story to carry on the feelings after TWS. The end of each chapter has notes with some background and I'm going to try and publish about once a week (fingers crossed). Hope y'all enjoy it!





	1. Chapter 1

Ok so I’m new to this. Kind of. And there’s a hell of a lot I don’t know about this crazy world. But there are some things I do know. And everything falls out of my head so often that right now I'm feeling the need to write them down. I know that's dumb, bear with me. I pull a scrap of paper and a pencil from my pocket and scribble out a list, hunched over the glass coffee table.

‘THINGS BUCKY KNOWS’ I underline that.

‘1) HYDRA is bad.’ No, that doesn’t sound bad enough.

‘2) Really, very bad. Awful.’ That’s a bit better. I don’t write that there are no words for the kind of pain I have seen and endured myself at the hands of HYDRA’s leaders, that I awake every night screaming and sweating, terrified and angry and both me and not me at all, that after most of a century all the bastards have left me with are a metal arm, a godawful haircut and a head full of shattered memories that I’m too afraid to put back together.

‘3) For the last 71 years the Winter Soldier’ (that’s me. Kind of.) ‘has been working for HYDRA.’ Does that sound like I enjoyed it? I pause, then:

‘4) That is also very bad.’ There. Now I didn’t enjoy it.

‘5) I have a friend. His name is Steve Rogers and he was captured by HYDRA and’ I pause. Does it really count as being held prisoner? He probably lived better in those bases than he ever did in Brooklyn. No. Fuck thinking like that (see point 1). ‘HELD PRISONER to keep the Winter Soldier loyal.’ Along with other methods. Damn, they really wanted him loyal.

‘6) I need to find Steve.’ That daft punk can never keep his skinny ass out of trouble. I can’t imagine where he is now I’ve run away. How he is. Whether he is – no. I physically can’t go there right now. Last time I tried I squeezed the computer mouse so hard the plastic shattered in my hand and then spewed my guts over the floor. Cue hasty exit from the public library.

‘7) I can’t do this alone.’ Damn right. And that brings me to the glass coffee table, the thick pile rug (that I AIN’T going to throw up on), the (pretty, but a little on the skinny side) receptionist and her long-string-of-interconnected-words-that-mean-absolutely-nothing-to-me coffee. I’m meeting one of HYDRA’s biggest enemies, a man with almost as much experience of their bases as the Soldier (though for a different reason), and who just happens to be an Avenger and one of the world’s greatest fighters on the side.

I’m understandably intimidated by this place. Over the past few weeks I’ve gotten pretty used to feeling out of place, but looking out of the impeccably clean floor to ceiling windows over the New York skyline that I barely recognise… Well that’s a whole different level. I allow myself to get lost in it for a minute and I barely notice a voice from behind me. When I turn around there’s a man – a huge, blond man – standing in the doorway. Filling the doorway. I thought I was muscular, but I have been completely upstaged. I quickly crunch my list in my hand and shove it into a pocket. He’s looking at me expectantly; I guess he’s just asked my name. We introduce ourselves (somewhat awkwardly) and, to my surprise, he gestures me back into the corridor, not into the swanky office I’d imagined. When I ask, he answers genuinely.

‘Yeah, it’s not for me. Tony – Tony Stark’ well that name rings a bell. Stark and his flying car, right? Me and Steve and those two girls and then Steve – dammit where did he go? And then me and those two girls – jeez, I’m glad I remember some things. ‘He lets me use it sometimes but I’d rather be outside, y’know?’ I nod agreement. I’ve also noticed we’re not taking the lift and I’m glad. Nobody should be trapped in a small metal box with me, 0/10 would not recommend. Although I reckon this guy could hold his own in a fight with me. Hell, he looks like he could hold his own in a fight with a tank.

We chat as we go down the stairs. Conversation between us flows surprisingly easily given I’m an 85ish year old amputee assassin who has been working for Nazis for the last 70 years and he’s an Actual Real Superhero. Not to mention the last time I made real conversation with someone outside my own head was probably during the war. As we step out onto the street at the entrance of Stark Tower, I hear myself laughing. It’s a weird sound, kind of catches me off guard, but it ain’t entirely bad. We walk the couple of blocks to Bryant Park, where we grab chairs and sit on the terrace, our backs to the hedge (sometimes I wonder if normal people think like that – attack and escape routes, blind spots, potential weapons… No? Just me then. Well. Me and my blonde friend here.) It doesn’t take long for us to get down to business.

_I’d had to repeat his name twice before he turned around. Just enough time for me to doubt that it could – well, that it could really be him… All this time looking for him and now he comes to find me, like it was just so simple. But even as he turned around I knew. You just know sometimes. My ma always used to say how when something really matters, you just know, and I guess she was right. When he turned around I was terrified. Just for a split second. Not because of how tired he looked, nor the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his split lip, nor his mane of shaggy, untended hair, but because there was nothing in his eyes but blank unfamiliarity, just like that day on the bridge. But my stomach really dropped when, to my horror, he introduced himself. Same trademark Bucky grin, movements more familiar than my own voice, the same easy handshake, but a complete stranger. Every cell in my body screaming that he must be joking, just kidding around like we always did. But I know it’s true. He’s forgotten me. He’s forgotten his Steve._

I got in contact with him through Natasha Romanova, who was *ahem* wary (just about beat the shit out of me) when we first met. But he was the first person she called after tying me up in the basement, and he flew in from Washington to meet me the next day, once I’d been released (on only slightly friendlier terms) from Natasha’s custody. (I don’t know what happened there; last time I remember seeing her before then was in Poland, a dim memory of some dank room in Klomino back when the Soldier was still almost human… But then I don’t remember a lot of things, it seems. Must’ve ended badly.)

When we get onto the subject of HYDRA the mood drops. His brow creases and he shoots a sidelong glance at me. At first I question that and then I realise he knows about my history, and I have to fight down the automatic panic and urge to run that I’ve been cultivating since I quit HYDRA. Instead, I avoid his gaze and scan the park for potential agents. I’ve found eliminating people from the Possibly HYDRA Locate Nearest Exit And Get Ready To Attack List calms me down.

_I glance at him when we first mention HYDRA, and see his eyes darken and jaw tighten. I know it’s bad but I’m almost glad because at least he remembers something. As horrible as it feels, I realise that HYDRA could be my way in to Bucky’s head. I ask what he wants with it._

His question surprises me; maybe he doesn’t know as much about me as it seemed. Or maybe HYDRA didn’t like to share how it kept its living weapon loyal.I avoid his eyes, but answer honestly, in a rough voice that doesn’t sound like me ‘I want to end it.’

_Though I hate putting him in this uncomfortable position, I need to know how much he remembers. I can’t help him if I don’t know what he’s fighting. Quietly, I ask why._

Staring straight ahead, he answers that there’s someone he has to find. He seems surprised. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him frown and look away. Good. His never-ending quest for eye contact was getting too intense for me anyway. After a few breaths, he turns back to me and asks who. I know he won’t know the name so I just say ‘an old friend.’ But that ain’t good enough and he asks again. I look at the ground and the sounds of the city fade away around me. I speak the name that I’ve heard whispered in the thick, crowded darkness of my head uncountable times, that I’ve woken crying, that I’ve beat my knuckles to a pulp on the wall screaming again and again and again. Even I can hear that my voice sounds small and broken and pathetic.

‘Steve. Steve Rogers.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klomino – in the 1930s this small village in North West Poland was used as the site of a Wehrmacht military base. By 1939 it housed around 60,000 military personnel, and the land around it was a warren of underground tunnels and bunkers. It was captured in 1945 by the Red Army and remained in Soviet hands after the war, during which time it was used as a military training ground. The town has since been returned to Polish governance, but the ghostly remains of the barracks and soviet town have put people off settling there. The government has even tried to sell the whole town for 2 million euros, but there were no takers. It’s now abandoned and very creepy.  
> Bucky and Natasha? – They were together briefly back when they were both Soviet assassins, under Colonel Karpov. The flashback is in Captain America vol. 5 No. 27 if you want to find it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to deal with the realisation that Bucky's forgotten him, Bucky just tries to deal...  
> Sorry this chapter's so short!

_In the evening I visit Natasha. I don’t know who to turn to and every cell in my body screams Bucky, but I can’t because – and I hate myself for even thinking it but – he’s not right, he's not him anymore, not my Buck… But Nat’s right; I can’t think like that. Bucky is free. Bucky has found me. And it’s only a matter of time until he remembers. I have to keep telling myself that. I will be there. When he remembers, I will be there waiting for him and then it will be just like old times. I have to focus on that._  
     
In the evening I head back to my apartment. Well. When I say ‘my’ apartment I mean the recently vacated place I found on West 47th.  It’s in an area that I remember avoiding whatever the cost but right now I have no choice. Besides, it’s a nice apartment. Apart from the bloodstain on the carpet I guess, but nowhere’s perfect. And no that wasn’t me. It was here when I moved in. After a quick check of the apartment (HYDRA has made me nothing if not paranoid), I turn on the lights and head to the kitchen. There doesn’t seem to be any food in the fridge (I didn’t have time to check this kind of fine detail when I moved in), but I guess I ain’t all that hungry anyway. I lean down and reach for the milk and -

“Want some milk?” The fridge slams shut and my back is up against it and my left hand is reaching and grasping and then I’m on the floor and the apartment is tilting sickeningly and I can’t breathe and I’m being pulled down and someone is talking to me – no not to me – “It’s fine, Renata” and I recognise the voice and “you can go home” never I can never go home and I scream and I take him by the throat and I’m squeezing but I do not move I have not moved and he’s sickening and he’s looking at me and he’s fucking smiling and he reaches into the cupboard and “want some milk?” and I smash the window and run until my legs burn and I escape his suffocating grip but I do not move and everything is spinning out of control but I do not move and he leans in closer and I can smell him and I want to vomit but I do not move and “oh, Renata.” I shout at her to run to get out quickly now but I do not move and “I wish you would’ve knocked” and three gunshots and she staggers backwards and I fall upwards and I’m being pulled away and relief washes over me and then I’m lying on the floor in the apartment and I’m shaking and I can’t catch my breath, but I’m ok, and I can hear myself repeating one phrase over and over again: “32557, Sergeant Barnes, James B”. I focus on the soothing rhythm the words make and fight to still my shaking. As soon as I can, I hold my breath and scan the apartment for sounds of intruders. I hear nothing. By the time I finally make it off the floor and to the bed I’m wiped out and I collapse without undressing.  
     
_I sit on Natasha’s balcony and look out over the city. Bucky is out there, somewhere. It feels weird, knowing that. For so long I’ve avoided thinking about it, thinking about what might have happened to him after he dragged me out of the Potomac. It’s a relief to know he’s alive. I can almost imagine him now, in some apartment. Maybe he’s looking at the same sunset as me, like we used to from the roof of that apartment block on 32nd St. I stretch back in the chair, hearing Natasha getting beers from the fridge, and I try to convince myself not to be selfish. Bucky doesn’t need anything more on his mind right now. I tell myself it’s like Peggy; I would only cause him more hurt by forcing the truth on him. And hiding from HYDRA forever will only make his fear of them worse. My selfishness creeps in again, adding that taking down bases together would allow more time together; more time in which he might just remember. By the time Natasha joins me, beer bottles clinking together in her hand, my mind is made up._  
     
When I wake up, I feel like shit. My head aches and I have a beauty of a bruise coming on my side where I hit the fridge and floor on my way out. After a scan of the apartment I strip and shower, and the hot water makes me feel more human so that when I finally get out I almost feel ready to face the day. Hungry, too. Looking at the shape of the locking handle on the fridge, I ain’t gonna be getting in there any time soon, though what was inside wasn’t all that tasty anyway. I decide I’m not bothered. I check both directions in the corridor, and seeing no one head for the stairwell and the street outside.

It’s hot as hell in New York. Way hotter than I remember it being. I grab a donut from a stand while the fat owner is looking the other way and leg it down an alley before he sees me. I feel like a kid again, picking up food with Steve when there wasn’t enough to go round at home. While I'm eating I lean against a dumpster and remember how he always hated stealing, and I’m smiling like an idiot as I lick the leftover sugar off my fingers and head out of the alley the other way.

I think I got high on sugar, but it didn’t last long cause as I approach the park where I sat with my new buddy yesterday I feel increasingly worried. It’s slowly dawning on me that by doing this I might find Steve, but more likely I’ll find that he’s long gone. I’m breathing too quick and it’s got hotter. I stop walking and put my back against the wall and try to identify agents again, but a flash of blond hair and skinny shoulders catches my eye, and just for a second I think it’s Steve and then he looks back to cross the road and his face ain’t right. As dumb as it sounds that convinces me. I’ve got to know. I’ll roll with the punches just like I always have and hell, I might just find the punk.  
     
_I don’t know whether I’d hoped for some miraculous change but if I did I didn’t get it. He’s still as distant, still doesn’t remember me. I want to figure out how much he remembers, but I know I don’t need to right now.  We discuss the logistics of our planned missions, the noise of children and couples in the park covering us against any potential bugs. He can list codes and locations of bases like he’s reading them from a file, and I realise that maybe, in his head, he is. There’s so much that I want to ask, but right now it’s easier to stick to business. By the time we’re done the sun is setting behind the towering glass building to the West._

_When it rises again, we’re already on our way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Bucky’s’ apartment – In my head this is Karen Page (from Daredevil)’s apartment. If you haven't seen Daredevil, there was a time when Karen wasn’t comfortable staying in her apartment because of the things that had happened there, leaving it empty... I figured it might as well be lived in. I’ve put it in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen, which when Bucky left New York was a notoriously nasty place, known as ‘the most dangerous area on the American Continent’, famous for gang violence and run by crime families.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky attacks a chair

It’s just past 19:00 when we land at Naples. I slept some on the flight but every time I woke up the Cap was staring at me which put me off it. He’s recruited a guy called Sam that he promises me is on our side, and we’re going to meet Natasha (‘cause we got on so well last time) but there still ain’t many of us given what we’re planning. We walk across the apron to avoid being seen in the terminal, and get into a white car that’s as inconspicuous as it is dirty. Cap’s booked us a triple room in some sleazy hotel where no one’s gonna look for us, and we have a few hours to kill before we start. We’re all pretty tense so Sam suggests a game of chase the lady. I barely remember how to play but we talk as they beat me into the dust. Cap’s obviously told Sam why I needed them.

‘So this guy you’re looking for-’ He glances sideways at the Cap, who nods him on and then looks my way ‘He’s – a friend of yours?’ We both know he knows the answer there. He’s just testing the water. I nod. ‘And HYDRA are holding him hostage?’ I nod again. He looks down at his cards and back up, unconvinced, and hesitates before saying ‘But dude, he’s gotta be, what? 90?’ I make a show of looking down at myself and point out that so am I. He laughs and then he’s quiet for a minute. I break the silence.   

‘They showed The Soldier that they’d caught him. They used it to make sure he was compliant. They never kept them in the same compound, in case he found Steve, but they had recordings and threats. They could always make it worse, y’know? But, point is, he never changed. He was always the same kid.’ I have to work there to keep my voice from breaking, and I fight to focus my anger on HYDRA, not on my own 72 year failure to help my best and only friend. Luckily, Cap steps in. ‘Some sort of anti-ageing tech?’ I’m back to nodding now. At least my 70 years were mostly spent unconscious. Steve had to live through it all. I guess Sam can read the look on my face ‘cause he shifts the conversation off Steve and runs through our plan.  
     
_The plan’s simple. Sam and I agreed it was best that I stick with Bucky, in case something goes wrong. We didn’t say it but we didn’t need to – if something does go wrong, I’m the only one with a chance against him. We chose this base as a first target for two reasons: it’s not heavily guarded (as HYDRA bases go), and because (as life as the Winter Soldier goes), it’s not linked to many traumatic memories. Sam knows about this sort of thing and the only way I could convince him to let Bucky go back was if we found an emotionally ‘easy’ target. A test run, almost._

 _We plan to meet Natasha near what Bucky identified as the least guarded point on the perimeter. Then Natasha will join us while Sam covers us from above. Natasha’ll be a distraction that will let Buck and me into the heart of the compound. It’s a simple plan but it should work. I guess I’m just worried what he’ll find in there._  
  
Just before dawn, we’re crouched in the shadow of a clump of trees about 20 metres from the perimeter of the base I know as CLFT. Having driven past the town to get here I guess it’s named after Castelforte (weirdly, HYDRA never told me these kinda things). The perimeter is just a simple wire fence, but the base itself is dug into the rock about half a mile North of the town. Sam’s covering us from above and it ain’t long before Natasha’s moving towards the fence, me and Cap following. She cuts the wire and we duck through. It’s kind of weird that nothing happens. Not that I was expecting anything to happen, but it’s weird. I’m still… me. This is unchartered mental territory (God knows how badly that can turn out) and I’m in a HYDRA base, but I’m OK. Cap’s looking at me. Fair enough. I think I might actually be smiling. I kinda hope he can’t see in the darkness ‘cause I'd look like a goon. He motions to Natasha and we move off, her making for the back entrance as a distraction while we hit the front. We wait just around the corner until we can hear most of the men move off and shouts from the other end of the compound. I’m glad I’m not the one fighting Natasha this time. When we round the corner there’s only four guys there and we take them out easily. It feels good to be fighting again; every movement is natural like it’s what I was built to do. Some sarcastic voice in the back of my mind reminds me it is. I enter the code from The Soldier’s mental files and the doors slide open with a metallic grinding. Cap glances at me and then follows me in. I can feel his eyes on my back all the way down the corridor, and I make a mental note that we’re gonna have to talk about that.  
     
_We take out the agents at the doors easily, but that’s the simple part of this mission. I reckon Buck feels how closely I’m watching him as he steps through into the base, and as much as I want to trust him the trigger word ‘Sputnik’ is ready in the back of my throat. But I see no change as we enter. He doesn’t even look around at me. He knows where he’s going and he starts down the corridor like nothing could stop him. We quickly leave the grey morning light behind us, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow. I’m starting to worry that he’s leading me like this just to get me lost, and I’m about to speak when he stops. On his left is a reinforced metal door with no markings apart from the rust stains down the hinges. He’s tensed up, his shoulders rising._

_'Bucky?’_

I know this room. I know I don’t want to see it but I have to. I turn to Cap and I think I say ‘Get me in’ but it’s more like someone else says it, and then I’m in. There’s no one else here at the moment. The scientists don’t have an asset to work on so I guess they’ve left. The machines hum gently. I’m afraid that if I take one step further forwards I’ll be pulled in and I’ll be right back where I was and all this won’t be real. There’s a file on the table, though. I reach over and pick it up, with fingers that aren’t mine.  
досье: зимний солдат  
I open it. The first sheet is stamped with HYDRA insignia, despite the Russian on the folder.  
     
**OFFICIAL HYDRA DOCUMENT #1411F**  
**FILE: HYDRA ASSET ‘WINTER SOLDIER’**  
  
**Notable missions used:**  
**11/09/12 #1894_PEREPILICHNYA**  
**09/21/07 #1890_LITVINENKOA**  
**10/19/01 #1778_OCHOAD**  
**01/08/93 #1700_TURAJLIKH**  
**12/16/91 #1646_STARKM**  
**12/16/91 #1645_STARKH**  
**05/21/85 #1616_NKADIMENGV**  
**06/18/84 #1609_BERGA**  
**01/22/82 #1594_MONTALVAE**  
**06/13/76 #1502_BOLLESD**  
**11/30/74 #1499_PRATSC**  
**06/05/68 #1480_KENNEDYR**  
**11/30/65 #1475_BAMINAJ**  
**09/22/63 #1433_KENNEDYJ**  
  
**NB: Full list of missions can be found in document #1333. Information on research conducted using asset and asset response can be found in documents #1623 through #2021**  
**Notes: Asset requires regular neuroelectronic reset to maintain functionality. All necessary nutrition may be provided intravenously. Though asset is responsive to verbal direct order, key ‘SPUTNIK’ can be used to shut down circuitry temporarily. Biorobotic prosthetic contains cyanide capsule which can be activated in event of asset non-containment and/or extreme malfunction.**  
     
I scan down the list of names and I feel sick. I’m breathing too short and too fast and I’ve dropped the file and Cap is moving towards me but the room is already tipping like I’m drunk and I’ve fallen against the wall – or it’s come to meet me – and I’m almost throwing up and my heart is going crazy so I squeeze my real hand into a fist and I hit the wall behind me but it’s not enough. I’m moving toward the machine and my metal hand grabs one of the arm restraints and pulls and rips and then it’s coming apart in my hands and I’m ripping and smashing and destroying. There's a voice screaming inside my head and I can't make out the words but I know it's angry because I always had it easy  - brainwashed and never present - and now I’m getting out easy again while Steve is still goddamn stuck - and all I’ve been doing is running away and hiding and looking out for myself and no one else and all those people - and there are more - they’re just goddamn codes they should be remembered! I deserve to remember them I deserve so much worse! And I’m yelling but I don’t know what I’m saying, and the machine is in pieces, and there are wires scattered across the floor, and my real hand is broken and already bruising but the other one isn’t and that's so WRONG so I’m picking up metal from the floor and I’m pushing it into the forearm between the plates and I can see it sparking and I stab again, bending the metal apart again and again - and then Cap has my arm and he’s holding it back, and I kick him off but I can’t breathe and I’m falling forwards, both hands reaching out to catch myself on the broken remains of the machine - and then it's like I surface - I can finally breathe - and I hear distantly that I’m repeating ‘Sergeant 32537 Barnes, James B’ again and again. Cap’s talking into his earpiece. He’s trying to stay calm. He’s doing better than me. I just gotta focus on breathing right now. Cap’s reassuring Sam. Telling him we’re fine, which is a lie. But no-one’s dead, and no-one’s HYDRA, so we’re better than we could be. My real hand has got cut up by the sharp metal and the metal one has a bent hole in the forearm, wires still shorting inside.  
  
_I reassure Sam as much for him as for myself. I have to believe Bucky has control. I don’t tell Sam how close I was to using Sputnik. Despite his warnings I’m reluctant to use a code word implanted in Buck by the U.S.S.R. that has unknown effects. But I’m undeniably shaken. Destroying one of the machines that was used to keep him compliant is one thing but he hadn’t seemed self destructive before. The pain and loathing and fury in his eyes as he attacked his arm made my stomach lurch even as I held him back. I know what he saw in that file. I have a copy of it, given to me by Nat. It’s not something he should have to live with, God knows he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this._  
     
Neither of us are in the mood for conversation and waves of nausea are still washing over me, so I'm thankful for the businesslike way Cap starts to clear up the mess I made. After some short work with his shield to bend the arm’s plates back into place, we leave the base the way we came in. There’s no one around this time (probably thanks to Natasha), and we step out into the Italian sun just as the first of the charges Cap set way inside goes off. He insisted we leave the file behind, let it burn with the rest of HYDRA. We don’t say it but we both know it’s all already inside my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chase the Lady – this is an American slang name for the card game Hearts which was very popular during the 20s and 30s. Though nowadays it’s seen as an old people’s game (apart from that insanely annoying version on windows computers), it’s pretty likely that people would have played it when Steve and Bucky were growing up, and I’m guessing Steve might have taught it to Sam.  
> Castelforte – this town, about 60km North West of Naples, was used as a temporary base by Nazi troops on the way to Rome during WW2. In 1944, it was abandoned after a prolonged allied attack on the town and those around it (see article here: https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1144&dat=19440513&id=wTkbAAAAIBAJ&sjid=30wEAAAAIBAJ&pg=4402,4475908&hl=en , if you're interested). Who’s to say the Nazis didn’t leave behind a bit of HYDRA buried in the mountain?  
> Targets/missions – all these are real assassinations (apart from the Starks). The codes are made of #randomnumber_SECONDNAMEFIRSTINITIAL eg: #2537_BARNESJ. As sick as it sounds some of them are interesting reading, especially Litvinenko, Perepilichny and Bolles.


	4. Chapter 4

‘What the hell happened in there?’ Sam looks from me to Cap and back again. ‘One minute it’s all going great and the next it’s radio silence and crazy heat signatures. I was ten seconds away from coming down there.’ He looks between us again but gets nothing back, so he looks out of the window at the passing countryside, pinching the bridge of his nose. I feel like we’re kids being told off by a parent. It’s having about as much effect on me as it ever did. Cap says we’re fine and that’s what matters here and I guess they’re gonna talk about it later when they’re not in a confined space with a human weapon, which is fair enough. The rest of the journey is silent.

 

_That night Sam, Natasha and I sit up late talking about Buck. I tell them about the chair.  A look crosses Nat’s face and I guess she already knew. Then I tell them how he destroyed it. I don’t tell them about the file, and I don’t tell them what else he tried to destroy. If Sam gets wind of Bucky’s self-destructive tendencies, I’m never gonna get them working together again. Even I know Buck and I can’t do this alone. Luckily, Sam can understand the pleasure of righteous destruction, and it doesn’t even take me that long to convince them the missions should continue. In the back of my mind I know the longer we do this, the more likely he is to remember. As I close my eyes to sleep that night I know I’m being selfish, but my guilt is outweighed by simple, childish desire to have my friend back. I dream of Brooklyn._

Breakfast the next morning is surprisingly calm. We sit in the dusty Italian sunlight and listen to the scooters and drink black coffee. Cap must have put in some good groundwork with the others to get them this friendly; that or he didn’t tell them what happened. Either way, it’s a good morning for me. They don’t even question when Cap starts talking about the next target and I try not to look surprised that there even is a next target, but I reckon I fail cause Natasha shoots me a sideways glance. The next base is in North West Czechoslovakia, buried in a disused mining tunnel (damn, HYDRA loves those underground bases) between Ostrov and Jáchymov. I ain’t looking forward to this but Cap’ll be glad to get out of the Italian heat; he’s strategically chosen the seat in the shade and keeps throwing the sun angry glances when the wind drops. When he goes inside to fix more coffee we agree not to tell him that his nose is going pink.

We’re gonna take this base in a similar way to the last one (except with less crazy breaking things on my part). Again, me and Cap will head in together, while Sam circles above and covers us. The only difference this time is Natasha. Well, no Natasha. When we ask she says she has ‘places to be’ and smiles exactly the sort of smile I used to see on dames back in Brooklyn. Sam nudges Cap and says ‘Barton’ with just the cheeky one-eyebrow-raised look I used to give Steve, and I make a mental note to look up ‘Barton’ later. The morning passes quickly but the more time goes on and the more I watch the three friends talking and laughing, the more I miss Steve. The fact I haven’t found him is still eating away at me and yet here I am, sitting on a veranda in Italy, laughing and joking and drinking coffee. It’s the icing on a disgusting cake of 72 years of betrayal and torture, baked by yours truly. They don’t notice when I leave the table; I head to the toilet and force up the breakfast I just ate. I’d rather travel on an empty stomach anyway.

 

_I’m glad to be out of the heat. Italy’s great but though super-soldier serum fixes a lot of stuff I still somehow manage to get sunburnt; Sam tells me it’s the Irish in me coming through. Then he does a terrible, offensive Irish accent. We’ve parted ways with Nat now and Bucky is quiet but I’m reassured by how relaxed he seemed this morning. There were moments when I caught his eye and we were kids in Brooklyn again, climbing up fire escapes to eat our stolen apples in peace and watch the city from above. Before Nat left us she called in a couple of favours with some guy she knows in the Czech Republic, so we get another lift from KLV to a run-down hotel in Ostrov. As we drive the 20km out of Karlovy Vary I can see Bucky’s expression darken. Even if I didn’t know every one of his expressions like the back of my hand I would know he’s dreading something at this base._

Steve was in Czechoslovakia. In all the time Steve had been kept by HYDRA, the Soldier had only ever been shown him on video; heard his screams over loudspeaker. I guess they wanted to keep them apart in case the Soldier reacted badly (yep, I can see why they were worried there). But there was a mission in Brno. The Soldier saw someone he thought he knew and it triggered something that made him me. And not naturally leaning towards being a HYDRA assassin, I ran away. Well, I tried to run away. Turns out HYDRA had a tracking chip in my top left wisdom tooth (not anymore, judging by the weird softness of the gum there – who knows when I did that…) When they brought me in they decided they needed some way to punish me, and having used all the standard torture methods some genius decided to bring Steve in. If I had to pinpoint the single worst moment of my life, it would probably be there. Already secured in the machine, I waited to see what they had for me. I knew my punishment would hurt; I ruined a mission and straight-up betrayed HYDRA. But when they brought Stevie in I swear to God my heart stopped. His face was already pretty beat-up but I knew him straight away. Somewhere far away I could hear myself begging and pleading for anything that wasn’t that, but the machine was already working and I fought against it so hard but when the programming words washed over me I felt the cold red mist of the Soldier’s mind fill and drown mine.

There’s no way to make that ok. There just ain’t. I can’t just forget the feel of my best friend’s skinny bones crunching in my hands. He just fucking took it. Never fought back, never tried to stop me, nothing. The Soldier didn’t feel nothing either. He only stopped when he was ordered off, and then he was cleaned up and put back into Cryofreeze. I don’t know how long it was before they got him out again but any trace of Steve was long gone. They dragged him off and must have taken him back to wherever they were keeping him. The only thing that’s kept me sane (ish) since is knowing that HYDRA would never have let the soldier kill Steve when he was so useful for controlling him. That doesn’t mean I’m expecting to find Steve at this base; HYDRA knows to never leave something so valuable in the same place for long. That’s why they moved me so often. Either that or they wanted to show me the world. It’s the memories here that I’m worried about, and God knows that’s not usually much of an issue for me; the list of Shit I Forgot stretches from here to fucking Siberia. When I first escaped HYDRA I barely even had memories, but since then they’ve been coming back with worrying force, and usually at the most inconvenient times, and before I know what I’m doing I’ve smashed a window and I’m halfway to the ground without time to think fuck before the sidewalk hits me. It’s not great.

I sneak a look over at Cap. He looks worried too. Probably worried about what shit I’m gonna pull next; probably thinking all of this was a mighty bad move on his part. Sam’s quiet too. I go back to looking out the window.

The car drops us just outside of HYDRA’s surveillance perimeter, where Sam leaves us (with a sidelong look at me just to make it really clear he doesn’t trust me). Cap gives me an apologetic smile and explains that Sam’s bigger on sass than on subtlety. I smile back but to be honest I don’t care; we have way more important things to focus on. This base has no fence, but The Soldier’s memory shows an advanced system of pressure sensors in the ground along with a radar setup that can detect a single person breathing. Luckily, The Soldier knows what frequency the radar operates on, which means I know, and we’ve left a jammer planted in the woods. It should give us about 10 minutes before the average HYDRA radar technician notices he’s not seeing any movement at all. The pressure sensors were harder to deal with but Stark upgraded Sam’s equipment with a LIDAR-based technology that can see stuff under the ground. So all he has to do is radio down where to avoid walking. It takes us 8 minutes 41 to get to the doors, where I enter the codes to open them. We stay hidden around the corner, so we have the advantage of attacking anyone who comes out from behind, but no-one comes. I go first and Cap brings up the rear as we head into the tunnel.

This base feels smaller than the last, and it smells like shit. It’s also weirdly empty, like it was abandoned in a hurry. We keep going and turn a corner into a room that I recognise too much. It’s just like every other med room in every other HYDRA facility I remember being kept in, but also it’s not because this one is the last place I saw Steve. I kinda just stand for a minute. I guess I’m expecting something big to happen, but it just doesn’t. I can still breathe, I’m still in the room, Cap is still a couple of feet behind me, probably watching me but also not being attacked by me so that’s good. I take another step into the room, checking sightlines. I’m just about to motion for Cap to follow me when the steel doors between us slam shut. I spin round and put my back against the door. I can feel the vibrations he’s making as he attacks the door with his shield. I can see another exit the other side of the room, and I know if I leave it too long it will be flooded with agents sent to take me out. I run for it. I can still hear Cap beating the doors up on the other side of the med room. Weirdly, as I run, a screen to my left flickers into life. I wouldn’t have paid it any attention if a skinny figure hadn’t caught my eye. But now I have no choice. I can’t move any more. I have to watch.

 

_He’s stopped. Why has he stopped?? I yell through the door. I don’t even know what I’m yelling. He’s not hearing me. He’s walking towards a screen but I can’t see what it’s showing. I jam my shield into the crack between the doors and brace my back against the frame and pull as hard as I can but the doors won’t budge. I hammer on the steel. I can’t lose him again. I can’t. FUCK!_

I don’t want to watch this and I have to get out but I can’t. Something about the footage playing on the monitor is holding me right here. It’s Stevie, and The Soldier. No, fuck that. Take responsibility. It’s _me._ And I know what I’m about to do and I don’t want to see but I have to so I keep on watching. Fuck, it takes nothing to knock him down. Steve’s on the floor now but HYDRA haven’t called me off. He’s not fighting back; why the fuck haven’t HYDRA called me off? They don’t need Steve dead, he’s too valuable. Even on this shitty security footage I can see the blood spurting from his mouth and nose and running down his face. Has he passed out? I don’t remember this... Finally someone must call me off because I stand up and move away, head bowed, face out of sight. Steve still ain’t moving. I don’t remember this. I remember them dragging him away. He was still walking, he was conscious. Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t remember this. Someone else steps into the frame and hands me a knife. FUCK! No! I’m waiting for an order. This can’t be real. This can’t have happened – I would know – I would have remembered –but I’m watching myself kneeling down beside him and I take the knife and I don’t even hesitate I just slice. Blood spurts out and it’s like it’s all over me and my stomach drops through the floor and I feel hopeless and fucking sick and I’m screaming because that was me I fucking killed Stevie I FUCKING KILLED HIM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between Ostrov and Jáchymov – the earth surrounding Jáchymov in Karlovy Vary District in the Czech Republic has been mined for silver for centuries. After 1948, when the country came under communist rule through the Warsaw Pact, this area became somewhat notorious for labour camps. The prisoners held at the camps were used to mine uranium, presumably leaving now disused tunnels in the rock. HYDRA would have had to line them with lead to reduce the radiation inside the base, but somehow I feel like that’s even more HYDRAesque.
> 
> Bucky’s got his Eastern European countries mixed up! – yes, I know Bucky is wrong in calling it Czechoslovakia, but he’s had a lot of things to catch up on and learning the current names of every country is probably not that high up his list of priorities. I also don’t feel like HYDRA would be strong on making sure the Winter Soldier was programmed with political correctness unless it was mission-critical.


	5. Chapter 5

_I lost him. Again. I promised myself I wouldn’t let him go again and I failed both of us. I don’t think I’ll ever forget watching him in that room. His face as he stared at the screen. That wasn’t just fear or anger. It was complete, absolute horror. I don’t know what he was seeing but it broke him. He didn’t even turn to look back before he left. He was just gone. Of course I searched all around the outside of the base. Made Sam stay until dawn even though he hadn’t picked up any heat signatures since we went inside the morning before. But he’s gone again. 70 years as a ghost assassin mean if he doesn’t want to be found even the combined efforts of Stark Industries and the Avengers Initiative aren’t gonna find him. Sam and I make the journey back to the hotel in silence. He has the good grace not to say I told you so. I can’t sleep._

           

I haven’t slept in days. I gotta stop somewhere and get food. If I keep on like this I’ll screw my own chances of ever getting there. I decided to leave Cap. I needed him to help me find Steve and man did I find him, so Cap’s no longer needed. It feels kinda mean cause he’s only ever been friendly but what I’m gonna do next I gotta do alone. So I headed deeper into the base and waited there until thermal crossover so Sam wouldn’t pick me up. Since I left there I’ve travelled North into Germany and through Dresden and then into Poland. Stealing cars ain’t a problem with The Soldier’s training. Actually, who am I kidding, I learnt how to do that way back in Brooklyn. Stevie always hated it – he’d get all angry and righteous and make me promise never to do it again. Then I’d call him a punk and he’d call me a jerk and I’d go right back out and do it again the next day. That seems so long ago now. I guess it is. Damn. Every thought I have leads right back to Stevie, but I’ve figured I deserve it. Let me think of him. Let it hurt.

I stop in the suburbs of Wroclaw and steal some food. I don’t know how long it’s been since I left Cap and to be honest I’m feeling lonely. I got used to having people around. Friends, I guess. But I don’t deserve friends. Besides, I gotta stay focused on the mission. I head through Belarus and drop the car in the car park of a gas station and café called ‘drunk driver’ on M1 to cross the border on foot. By the time I get to the border it’s getting dark. Shit, I lost track of time again. I wonder if Cap and Sam are back in the US now. It kind of feels right, Cap being way over there and me being back here. This is where I was made and where I was trained and where I belong. I dunno exactly where the border is but it’s close and I know it’s sick and wrong but there’s one phrase going round and round in my head: возвращение на родину – homecoming.

Once I’m in Russia I hotwire another car and carry on driving. That’s the thing with Russia – I’m here now but I’m still less than halfway through my journey. Well, that’s one of the things. The other is that the food is shit, something I’m just remembering. I guess it’s good that I don’t have to eat it for much longer.

 

_We searched for a month, solidly. Sam wanted to leave sooner saying we could do more from home but I wasn’t having it: what if he came back here and we’d gone? I managed to make a deal that if we saw nothing for a month we could go. And now we’ve gone. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop looking though. I’ve enlisted Nat to see if she can hack into HYDRA’s system at Jáchymov and find out what he saw on that screen in case it gives us an idea where he’s going next but she say’s it’s gonna be hard. I know that’s her gentle way of telling me it’s not possible, that he’s gone and that I should let him be gone, but I can’t accept that. I accepted it last time and look where it got him. No, I’m going to find him._

I carry on my routine of stealing cars, driving, stealing food, sleeping, waking up terrified, and driving for what I reckon is a couple of weeks. I can feel I’m heading North now. It’s fucking freezing. The route I’m taking crosses the Vilyuy again and again and each time I see it it’s more full of ice. And I don’t know whether I’m imagining it but all this is looking familiar. I know, sounds unlikely but I do remember _some_ things, occasionally. The road’s pretty empty now, just me and the occasional truck, and in some places it’s iced over so I have to slow up. What with that and having to stick to the same car now (they’re not easy to come by in the wastes of Siberia, trust me) – meaning I have to park off the road to sleep – this journey is taking longer than I expected. I’m rationing out the food I still have but if I’m honest there ain’t much and it’s gonna be tight. At this point I’m pretty glad I’m not making a return journey.

 

_I get woken up by my phone. Nat sounds shaken, which you don’t hear often. She tells me to come in and I’m there within half an hour. She shows me the system, opens a folder called 01. She says it was easy to get into and she starts to explain but she can see it’s going straight over my head so she stops. She puts a hand on my shoulder and she says she’ll give me some time to watch it, but I’m just looking at the screen, and the one file that sits in the corner. I sit down and take a couple of careful breaths. Then I move the pointer over to the file._

 

I made it through Morkoka last night. I’m almost there now. I haven’t slept or eaten in days but it don’t matter. I’ll be there by tonight if I keep going.

 

_I watched it all. It was damn hard to watch but every time I found myself reaching to turn it off I would grit my teeth and think about how much harder it must have been for Buck. Why didn’t I just fucking tell him? I should have known the lengths HYDRA would go to. I fucked up. I’ve betrayed my best friend again, and now I lost him. Again. I wish I could make this right._

Ok, this is it. I left the car a few miles back and just took out what I need. Which is a vest packed with 6 pounds of TATP that I made back in Aykhal, a shit-ton of uninsulated high resistance wire and a battery. As I walk along the road memories are coming back to me. I don’t know if it’s the hunger or the lack of sleep or the just-plain-fucked-ness of my head but I feel like HYDRA's watching me and they know I’m coming. I can almost see agents in the forest around me out of the corner of my eye. I want to turn back. I’m getting less sure about this every step. No. Come on. I knew this place would fuck with me, it always did. There was always the threat of going back to Udachny. Now all I need to go is go back one last time. It’s symbolic. Fuck being scared. COME ON.

I’m at the perimeter fence now and they really are watching me. There’s a CCTV camera looking right at me. I wonder how many they had back in the forest. Pressure sensors? Fuck. No. It’s ok. They can know I’m coming. All I need to do is get inside and keep my head long enough to flick the switch. Fuck though, I ain’t sure about this anymore… I’m hungry and I’m tired and I am fucking pants-shitting afraid. I’m shaking and I can’t think straight. I need to think this through, I need to FUCKING THINK. I don’t want to do this – I can’t do this –  I can’t go in there again and I’m turning away I don’t want to go back and I don’t want to die and –

‘Sputnik’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thermal Crossover – travelling during thermal crossover (when the speed of temperature change means objects blur together in a thermal camera) slightly disguises your thermal shape and makes you less detectable. Thermal crossover happens naturally every morning and evening (hence Bucky waiting until dusk). 
> 
> Drunk Driver – The last services on the M1 through Belarus before the Russian border is part of a chain called «Хмельной кучер» which translates as “Drunk Driver”. I just found that amusing. They have a shower and a sauna and 4 out of 5 stars on Google maps so it’s clearly a classy institution. If anyone happens to be nearby and wants to check it out please send me a comprehensive review.
> 
> TATP – Acetone Peroxide is a common component of home-made explosives. It’s easy to make (apparently) and highly explosive, meaning it takes very little to trigger detonation. Glad I have TOR or I would be on lists for looking up this stuff…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 53 32nd St Apt 7 – Ok so I have this idea that 32537 isn’t Bucky’s Army Service Number. For a start, it’s the wrong format: WWII US serial numbers have 8 digits and Bucky’s would have started with 12 (New York), provided he enlisted before 1942. SO I decided to make it an address instead. It needed some order switching to become a vaguely sensible address but I just liked the idea. In my head it’s an apartment he shared with Steve and that seems more personal than a Service Number given to him by an army for an infantry position that we don’t even see him serving.
> 
> ‘Я здесь.’, ‘Я не вижу.’ – These aren’t part of the trigger word set. They’re just in here to add to the general fuckiness of the situation. You can decide who’s saying them/whether they’re really being said at all. ‘Я здесь.’ Means I’m here (in reply to ‘who’s here?). ‘Я не вижу.’ Means I can’t see.

_Calls from Nat in the middle of the night have become pretty routine. It seems like she only works in the hours normal people are asleep, which makes it pretty lucky that I’m barely sleeping anyway. Plus she knows me well enough to know I want her to keep me updated on every little development. 2 days ago she called to say she’s cracked the encryption on the messages HYDRA bases send to one another. Not that they’re saying anything interesting but she’ll keep listening. She didn’t say it but we both knew that sentence ended with ‘in case he goes back.’_

_Tonight, there’s something off in her voice. It’s like I knew what she was going to say before she ever said it but hearing it out loud made my stomach drop through the floor: ‘He went back. They’ve got him.’_

 

I wake up in a dark room. My head’s throbbing. It takes me less than a second to figure out where I am. I’ve been here enough times – in dreams and reality – to know it by now, even with my memory. The cuffs are tight on my arms and ankles and of course someone’s taken my TATP. I can feel panic rising in me and I wanna scream but I know it won’t do no good. Not that I’m worried about them knowing I’m awake; they know that already by the biomonitors I can feel on my good arm. I just know for a fact some of them like the screaming. Sick fucks. I grit my teeth. While I’m in here and I still got any part of me left I’m gonna make this as hard as I can for every sick Nazi fuck I see.

The lights flicker on around me. I just about have time to think ‘speak of the devil’ before a fist hits me square in the nose, knocking my head back against the chair. I look up and make eye contact with – Rollins – the name comes to me out of nowhere. Along with sticky sweat and ripped fabric and screaming into a cement floor and then another fist to the face. And another. I spit blood at him and get another.

‘Calm down, soldier.’

I don’t know this voice. I don’t recognise him either. He’s young. Slicked back hair and the air of an entitled Texan kid whose sleazy daddy’s paid his way to the top of a Nazi organisation. He slouches his way towards me with his hands in his pockets and when he gets close enough I can smell expensive cologne almost masking the scent of cheap cigarettes. He doesn’t stop at ‘close enough’, either. He’s got this face on like a shady collector pricing an antique. His hand comes out of his pocket and I stare him in the eye and try not to flinch. When he strokes my face the clammy softness of it makes me want to gag. I can feel his other hand edging its way up my chest. What the fuck is this turning into? I turn my head, trying to catch his fingers in my teeth and see how deep I can bite, but before I can close my mouth I have an arm around my neck and a hand in my hair, pulling my head back. How many people are in here?? His thumb is brushing my lips now and I can feel puffs of sour breath as he shushes me. I’m keeping my mouth shut tight. Fuck this guy. It’s like he hears that because he kinda laughs and then pats me on the cheek. He steps back but he doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second and he gets handed a folder by one of the techs that he looks at boredly. Then he tosses it to the floor beside him, folds his arms and says ‘go on then.’ That’s a cue for one of the techs to approach me with a rubber mouth guard. I can see the shmuck’s shitting himself. Damn right. I open my mouth and he starts forward but I snap it shut again, snarling like a dog. The arm around my neck tightens and I cough involuntarily, which he takes as a cue. The rubber tastes stale and sour and I spit it out again onto the floor. Not making it easy, see? Texas looks at it and then back at me, and then he shrugs. ‘Carry on.’ Now I really start to panic. I can hear the machine warming up and I’m not ready. The metal closes in on my head. I can feel the static making my hair stand on end, tiny cracks and shocks getting me ready for the main event. I can still see Texas and he’s practically fucking salivating. I’m gasping for breath with the arm still around my neck and I think I’m already screaming, every part of me straining to break free because I know as the wipe starts that I ain’t never gonna be free again.

 

_We hijack one of Tony’s private jets with half permission. Even at this speed it’s a long journey to Siberia. We’re all comfortable with uncomfortable silences by now but it’s nice that Nat has something to explain on the journey. In short, once she had the encryption key and knew what they were saying it wasn’t too hard to find a database of past communications. In there, she found a message from a base in Siberia, Udachny, to a central hub in Texas, followed by a reply and the dispatch of a private jet, very like ours. She says this happened five days ago. That’s no short time and though I stay quiet I spend most of the journey praying he’s not dead, or worse._

 

 

I come to with a mouthful of blood and more which I can feel running down and dripping off my chin. My first thought is that the lights are too bright. I don’t have time for a second before the words start: ‘Желание.’ No. Wait. ‘Ржавый.’ I can feel the cold rage edging in. ‘Cемнадцать.’ I’m fighting it. ‘Рассвет.’ I clench my fists. ‘Печь.’ I can hear the gears whirring. ‘Девять.’ I focus on that. ‘Доброкачественный.’ I can feel the Soldier fighting me but I’m staying calm. ‘Возвращение на родину.’ Homecoming. Steve, think of Steve. Think of Brooklyn. It feels like time’s slowed right down now, and I know everything hinges on these last few words. I grit my teeth, focusing harder and willing every part of me that's still me to fight this. ‘Один.’ I’m back there, in 1937, with Steve. I focus on every tiny detail. It's summer and I'm in a vest made of the kind of scratchy cotton you just don't get now. Steve's got blood in his teeth. Again. The little punk thought I wouldn’t notice. Hah. We're nearly done now. I try not to think about what might happen, I have to stay focused on memory, I have to - ‘Грузовой вагон.’

It’s over. It’s eerily quiet in my head. I leave my memories of Brooklyn like I’m searching a booby trapped apartment, but I can’t feel the Soldier. The fucking relief makes me wanna laugh out loud. Fuck you, HYDRA. I think I do laugh. Until my head is pulled back and the machine starts to crackle again, that is. Shit.

‘Желание.’ Brooklyn. Steve. ‘Ржавый.’ By the docks. ‘Cемнадцать.’ Some girls just went past and thought he was my son. ‘Рассвет.’ He’s laughing so hard I think he’s gonna fall into the water. ‘Печь.’ Wheezing like an old man. ‘Девять.’ I’m getting defensive. It ain’t that funny. ‘Доброкачественный.’ He thinks that’s funny too. ‘Возвращение на родину.’ Fucking punk. ‘Один.’ I wanna push him into the water but if I do he’ll catch something. And then he’ll die, knowing him. ‘Грузовой вагон.’ I settle for a friendly shove.

‘Желание.’ Steve trying to enlist. Nowhere wants him. Too small and frail. ‘Ржавый.’ Our last night in New York. Me and those girls and Steve – ‘Cемнадцать.’ – Steve’s talking to someone. Looks Jewish. ‘Печь.’ Me and those girls. Forget about Steve now. That was a great night. What were their names? ‘Девять.’ Lola. Zola. Wait - Taking them home. 53 32nd St Apt 7 up top. All the way up where it was cheap cause no one else could be bothered. All the way - ‘Доброкачественный.’ Up high. Cold. Mountainside. Howling wind. ‘Возвращение на родину.’ Is this in Europe? No I’m in a lab. Please, not here. It’s dark. 53 32nd St Apt 7. Steve. Steve? ‘Один.’ I can’t do this I don’t understand what's happening. ‘Грузовой вагон.’ The room has gone quiet.

‘not working.’ ‘salvage’ ‘Грузовой вагон.’ There’s no one here. Who’s here? ‘Я здесь.’ I call out. ‘Доброкачественный.’ It’s too dark and it’s cold now. ‘Я не вижу’ How long has it been? ‘Cемнадцать.’ 53 32nd St Apt 7. Where’s Steve? ‘Девять.’ Who’s out there? Fuck. ‘Ржавый.’ ‘Just cut it off!’ Throbbing pain as something cuts into my shoulder. I can see the spray of blood. It’s not dark now and I can see them cutting into me. I try to scream but my voice is broken. They’re pulling at the arm. They unlock the restraint. I can’t move it. I can only watch in horror as they pull and twist and try to tear it off me. ‘… can do better than this anyway.’ ‘take what you can.’ I recognise Texas' voice. Fuck him. ‘Fuck you.’ He’s behind me but I can hear his scoff. Something stabs into the arm. Metal. A screwdriver? He’s reached over me and stabbed it into one of the joins between the panels. Well, I can’t move it but I can sure as fuck feel it. I howl and he leans over me, breath on my face, moving around me like I’m his prey. He bends down in front of me. Face too close to mine. Takes hold of the screwdriver and pulls it down, tearing panels off and ripping through the machinery inside. I scream and sob. He’s so close to me. Breathing it in. Open mouth inches from mine. The others have stepped back. Their job is done; they can’t salvage the arm now. Texas is having _way_ too much fun. He pulls out the screwdriver and I fall back against the chair. I’m shaking. Please let this be over. As quickly as he started, Texas stops. He stands up and straightens his shirt and nods to the techs that it’s time to go. And they do.

Rollins is the last out. It’s quiet now, apart from the sound of dripping blood.

Well, fuck.


	7. Chapter 7

I don’t know how long I sit, head back against the seat, eyes closed, just trying to focus on breathing. It’s hard to keep it up when there’s nothing worth breathing for left. Steve’s long gone and even if I made it out of this base I’d die from exposure on my first night in the snow. I try to clear my head and resign myself to just _finally_ _fucking dying_ , but there’s still some little punk’s voice in my head telling me Fuck that attitude.

My head’s so full of voices that I have no clue why I decide to listen but it’s right; giving in wasn’t how I made it through 80 years of being HYDRA’s bitch. 

I start by looking around me. The lab’s empty as far as I can see, and judging by the silence I’m pretty sure there’s no one in here save little old me. I can’t make myself look at the damage on my left side just yet, so I try and shift my right arm. It takes a second to see any movement but then there’s some shaking and I remember how to make a fist. I experiment with that for a second until the shaking dies down, which right now is a win in my book. Then I do the same with my legs. I psych myself up and then I take a look at the other arm.

The metal’s bent and broken, with wires sticking out in all directions, and when I try experimentally to move it I get nothing, not even so much as a few sparks. The cut into my shoulder is deep and the blood is oozing a dark, sticky red. I've been out for a while, then. At least it's congealing. My right hand is still cuffed to the chair, but I might be able to reach the table of instruments HYDRA left when they gave up on me. I strain against the restraints to reach. I'm close but a sudden wrench of pain shoots through my left side. The metal arm's now dead weight and has slid off the armrest, and the jolt has torn open the cut in my shoulder so it's bleeding bright red again. And the fucking thing is still hanging, keeping it open. Blood loss. Perfect. FUCK.

I think I passed out. I don't know how long I've been here. That's something I'm saying a lot recently. The bleeding hasn't stopped but I think I've been in and out of the room, mentally. Again, that's me all over, but the blood loss ain't helping. I wonder what time of day it is. I never did find Steve. Somehow that doesn't matter right now. I'll get to it later, I

Passed out again. I'm getting cold now. It's dark, too. I knew it was night time... Kind of weird that HYDRA would dim the lights just to show me it's night. I wonder if it's night in America too. I know it's night in Brooklyn. I bet those girls are still out there. We should meet up again, that was a great night. Fucking beautiful, both of them. They're probably out dancing. Once I've got ready I'll go join them, I just

 

_We land at Polyarny and switch our jet for a helicopter that will take us out into Siberia. We still haven't really talked. Sam has grabbed a couple hours of sleep but I can't. I'm not sure Nat even sleeps. Way back over the sea Sam raised the uncomfortable question of whether we might be flying right into a HYDRA trap. I told him that if he wants out he's under no obligation but that I'm in this until the end of the line. Then I pretended not to notice as they exchanged worried looks. Now we're flying over frozen Siberia so I guess they decided to stick it out._

I can hear something. There's this creaking sound like footsteps in snow. Fuck. That's not 'like' at all. That IS footsteps. My voice is hoarse but I shout. I don't care who it is now, it could even be HYDRA, but panic is taking over and I just want someone to fucking help me. I can't shout for long without coughing and I try not to notice the bloody tinge of the spit that drips into my lap. I'm barely even shouting, more sobbing. But then I hear it. Someone's shouting back. And I know that voice. But it can't be.

'Bucky? Buck?'

It is. It's Steve, I can hear him shouting for me. I'm laughing, the fucking RELIEF. Steve's here. He's asking where I am. I shout more. Cough more. I stamp my feet and hit my head on the chair when I can't make any more noise with my broken voice. I can hear him getting closer. He's in the corridor, right outside. His voice is softening. He's concerned and he's kind and he's so FUCKING Steve.

And then he rounds the corner. At first I think it's someone else. A soldier he brought with him. He starts coming into the room and he's silhouetted against the doorway and I'm watching behind him, waiting to see Stevie. But there's something about this guy, the way he moves. The way he holds his shield up defensively. I can't see his face but he's so fucking familiar. And then he says my name and it's like we're back in Brooklyn again. Back before the war. Or back in the war. We fought together. Me and Cap and the commandos. Me and Steve. And then recently. Me and Cap and Sam and Natasha. _Me and Steve._

Holy shit.

He's still approaching me cautiously. He's afraid I don't know him. But I do. I want to tell him how glad I am to see him, how much I've missed him and how often I've thought of him and sorry I am for everything I've done, but it's too much and I can't, so I just say

'Stevie.'

His face collapses. He looks even more relieved than I am and he's not even bleeding out. He covers the short distance between us in one stride and then he's frantically working the release on the cuff, freeing my good arm. I'm fucking dizzy with relief. I barely feel as he stands me up, taking the weight of the useless metal and steadying me like I used to girls after a long night on the town.

So many corridors. I have no idea how HYDRA used to find their way around in here. Steve's tiring, I know because he's grunting with effort just like he used to, except before he couldn't even carry a crate of pop without having a full-blown asthma attack.  Suddenly, I hear the sound of gunfire. Cap's heard it too, and I can see he's worried about Nat and Sam.

I know I'm slowing him down; I should want him to leave me and come back, but I desperately don't. I'm so afraid of him not coming back. He starts to lean me up against the wall and I can hear him saying something, telling me to wait here and to keep quiet. I'm pleading with him not to leave. He lets me go and my legs won't support my weight so I sink down heavily against the wall. I'm begging him now, I've got no idea what I'm saying but I know that if he leaves now he's never coming back. The gunfire is getting louder. I scream but he's turning away, walking towards the sound and away from me. He can't hear me now.

He's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter is such a downer (compared to the feel-good and happy-go-lucky tone of the rest of the story ofc).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky 'Overseeing': Yeah, I know this is medically pretty unlikely, but the other option was to write a voice for the Soldier and all my attempts just sounded so stupid. Also I know you can't dislocate your way out of handcuffs but it's such a useful plot device. 
> 
> So you made it to the end, congrats! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it (as much as possible for something this depressing)... But hey, at least it had a happy ending :)

I come to with a start and I can feel my throat is raw from screaming. The room around me is all too familiar and my heart drops. No Steve. No Cap. Just me and this place and the sound of my blood dripping on to the floor. How could I not have known. Jesus Christ. I'd found him, I'd FUCKING found him, and then I went on this fucking suicide mission. Idiot doesn't even begin to cover it. And he didn't tell me because he knew he was better off without me. He could tell straight away how fucked this whole situation is and for once in his life he was smart enough to steer well clear. Good. He doesn't even know the half of it.

 

_It's night now and we're getting close, flying low over the pine trees with Sam scanning for underground structures. I'm piloting and Nat is in the back, sorting through her array of weaponry for the right tools. I think Sam and I see it at exactly the same time, and both a split-second too late. The familiar shape of an old-fashioned anti-aircraft gun. The spray of fire tears through the floor of the helicopter like it's paper and we pitch dangerously to the right. I grab the shield and scramble to the door that Sam has just leapt from. I don't have time to think it through and I throw myself out, the black tops of the trees not far below me. I know the others got out but everything's happening too fast for me to see where they are now. The tops of the trees whip past me and I hit the ground hard, but I was braced on the shield and I'm only winded. I can hear the helicopter stutter and pitch its way into the snow some way to my left, and then quiet. I stand gingerly, listening out for movement in the dark around me._

That sound was real. And unmistakably the sound of heavy artillery. I was drifting in and out of consciousness but now I'm awake. I strain to hear what's going on above ground. Sounds like a helicopter going down. The ceiling shakes as it hits the ground and then there's more fire. Sounds like some of the HYDRA guys stayed behind after all. Either that or someone's chosen a very inconvenient location for a movie shoot. I need to get out. This could well be my only chance to get out of Siberia. And I know how I can do it too. I've just been ignoring it, because anything's better than awaking that part of me again. And I know I don't deserve to get out of here alive, but right now, selfish asshole that I am, I don't give a fuck. I can't believe I'm doing this.

'Желание.' My voice is hoarse and weak but it's enough that I can feel the first flickers of him. I try to keep calm. This is my choice.

'Ржавый.' My one working fist tightens.

'Cемнадцать.'  The drips of blood onto the floor are getting quicker.

'Рассвет.' Another round of shooting outside.

'Печь.' I can feel that I'm losing my grip on myself. He's taking the wheel.

'Девять. Доброкачественный. Возвращение на родину. Один.' The next four come in quick succession, separated by screaming I can only hear from a distance as the remembered pain of the wipes sears through me. It feels like every part of me is fighting every other part, and all of them are losing. I can barely say the last one through gritted teeth. I know that if I let go now the Soldier can take control, but having got this far I don't want to give up. There's room for two of us in this head.

'Грузовой вагон.' He doesn't waste time; the final scream is still echoing when he starts to fight the cuffs. I dimly notice that it's worked, that I can use him without losing myself, and I know that should be a good thing but I can't feel anything right now. I can't even feel it as I watch the Soldier dislocate his thumb - my thumb - with ruthless efficiency and slip his hand out of the cuff. Some righteous part of me is pissed off that I'm gonna have to deal with that later. He stands, the metal arm weighing even him down so he leans left when he walks, but to his credit he's doing a much better job of getting out than useless old me.

 

_There's the sound of a spray of bullets close by, and returning fire. I head that way and I can see the shapes of both Nat and Sam under heavy fire. Sam's using his falcon wing to shield them for now, but that won't last forever, and the shooter is holed up in what looks like an old guard post. It looks like there's only one HYDRA agent here. Suddenly the co-ordinated trap looks more like one guy who thought he might be able to sneak his way further up the HYDRA ladder by taking a shot at some famous guys. He hasn't seen me yet, but I'm not interested in him. Behind him I can see what I'm really interested in. Through the dark I can just about make out the entrance to the base, but I can't get to it until he stops firing._

 

He's at the entrance now. I can see his hot breath in the moonlight. I can also see what looks like just one HYDRA goon shooting from the guard post out front. And I thought I was an idiot. This guy really takes the prize. The Soldier's walking towards him. I know this ain't gonna end well but I can't look away. I keep reminding myself that this is what he has to do; this is how we get out of here, but even I'm not convinced I'm not gonna enjoy it. The Soldier steps into the shelter and the HYDRA guy doesn't even have time to turn before the Soldier's flesh arm is tight around his throat. I can see the panic in his eyes and I start to doubt myself. Sure I've killed people, but never up close and personal like this. He looks up at me and I realise the kid can't be more than 19. His hands are clawing desperately at the arm - my arm, and his eyes are watering. I can feel his trachea spasm as he gasps for air. His hair's in my face. Why is this taking so long? He passes out and I can't look at him any more so I look out to where he was firing.

I hadn't dared hope up until now. It could have been anyone. But of course it was him. Cap. Steve. Stevie. Shield up, starting to advance towards the guard post. The soldier grunts and drops the kid, who crumples to the floor, skull cracking sickeningly against a corner of wall. That ain't a sound I needed to hear. The Soldier starts to step out of the post. He has no weapons but I've just seen what he can do with his bare hands and I don't need another demonstration. I try to tell Steve not to come any closer, but I can only get out the word 'Steve'.

_The shooting stopped and I didn't dare hope. But now I can see. He's alive. He looks terrible. He's walking bent over to one side where the metal arm is hanging, dead. His left side is exposed to the freezing air and there's a deep gash in his shoulder which is still bleeding, but doesn't look fresh. There's blood down his chin and from his nose. But he's ALIVE. I start to move towards him. He says Steve, and relief washes over me. He remembers. Then he freezes. I'm still too far away to see his expression but his whole body has gone tense. This isn't right._

Fuck. I can't talk. I can't stop him. I can only watch. I thought I had control but this is even worse. He's stopped now but only because he's calculating his next move. I'm screaming inside my own head but there's nothing I can do. I've lost control. I'm begging Steve to get away. Please, please don't come any closer. I don't want to do this.

 

_'Buck?' I try cautiously. Nat and Sam are getting closer too. It's like approaching a wild animal; you don't know when it's going to strike. 'Buck? It's me, Steve.' Getting closer I can see his expression, and it makes my stomach drop. He looks terrified. Is he terrified of me? 'I'm not gonna hurt you, Buck. We've come to help.' He's shaking all over._

The Soldier's calculating his moves. Every swing, every punch, depending on which of the three opponents attacks first.

 

_My steps crunch in the snow. I notice he's unarmed._

 

I wish I could look away.

 

_'Buck, I need you to calm down.'_

 

I'm still screaming at him in my head.

 

_'We're gonna take you home.'_

He's getting closer.

 

_But I need you to come back.'_

He's talking but I can't hear what he's saying

_I don't know what I'm saying now; I'm just talking like you do to a frightened animal._

My head's too fucking loud

_Nat and Sam are exchanging glances._

Steve, please, get back, he'll kill you

_They're ready to engage._

 

Fuck, he'll -

 

_'Sputnik'_

_As soon as I say it I'm terrified of what I might have done. It was my automatic reaction when he started to move towards me. Minimising damage to all of us. But his head jerked back like he'd been backhanded and his eyes, which had been the only part of him not looking completely shit-scared suddenly widened in utter panic. Then he crumpled sideways into the snow, dragged down by the weight of the metal arm. I don't think I'll ever forget seeing that movement. It's like my personal taste of the hell that he endured constantly for years. Seeing your best friend die in front of you, killing them yourself. Replaying it over and over in your head. Thank god it's just a taste._

 

_~~_

 

_We keep him in stasis for the journey home, (Nat was able to use her hacked HYDRA system and the base's communications setup to radio for a lift, thank God). It's quiet, but the atmosphere is friendly. We come in to JFK through the evening clouds, the sun glinting off Manhattan's skyscrapers in the distance. It's beautiful. Who'd have thought it. Two boys from Brooklyn go off to war in 1943, and here we are, coming home in 2017. I look over at Buck, and I know he'd laugh at me for being such a sap, but he's asleep so I say it anyway._

_'Told you Buck, I'm with you to the end of the line.'_


End file.
